


Morning Glory

by Measured



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Morning Routines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-15 09:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13028043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: Sometimes, Jake couldn't believe how lucky he was. Not only did he have more than one towel now, he had the most incredible girl ever.  Or, Jake and Amy's routines blend together.





	Morning Glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



Amy woke when it was dark. 5AM wasn't good enough for her; only 4:30AM would she be able to fit her extensive morning routine in. She reached over him to turn off the alarm clock. Jake personally wanted the kinds you had to shoot with a gun that looked like something out of Star Wars; Amy bought the most effective one possible, personally recommended by at least three doctors with complicated Austrian surnames. She probably even knew their _names_.

After vigorously brushing her teeth, she would start to practice her 'power poses' as she'd learned from Amy Cuddy's book _Presence._ Jake's favorite was the Wonder Woman meets Beyonce pose, which was like feminism personified.

Jake yawned. His system was still getting used to things like multiple towels, eight drinks of water a day, and early mornings. "Noice," he said softly, as she started in her kettlebell and squats routine.

Sure, he missed out on several hours of sleep. But he got to see her squat low holding that kettlebell. God, he loved her butt. And of course, Amy being Amy always managed to fit in more. (The title of their sex tape, he thought to himself.)

She would mutter to herself plans for the day. He'd just hear a bit of _laminate....paperwork..._. Amy had made those words almost as sexy as the name _Valerie_.

"Your butt is weird," Jake said.

"After these squats, _my_ butt will be able to crack a walnut. _Your_ butt is weird."

"Good thing, because nobody sells nutcrackers anymore. We'll just use your butt."

She stuck her tongue out playfully as she switched to kettlebell swings. The purple kettlebell set had been gotten with a coupon and deal mix which was so complicated, it was like Morse Code. He was pretty sure in the end, the store had ended up _paying her_ for the kettlebells set.

After exercising, she settled down with her gratitude binder. She'd tried a bullet journal (and Jake thought it'd been a great idea--though he'd had an idea of something more Die Hard and less jangly music and productivity Youtubers.) but Amy really missed the lamination. 

After she'd closed the journal, Amy turned to him with a smile.

"You know, it's environmentally sound to save water by showering together. We'll save _much_ more energy that way." Amy said. Her voice had this sultry meets librarian edge.

Only Amy could make that phrase sound sexy.

"I'm always happy to...save the environment," Jake said. His sexy voice was more discount Die Hard meets Batman. But it worked. He got that perfect smile of hers. She disappeared into the bathroom.

Sometimes, Jake couldn't believe how lucky he was. Not only did he have more than one towel now, he had the most incredible girl ever. His best friend, his fiancee. Talk about winning the jackpot.

*

Lately, Amy had been on a juicing high. They'd had to get a super quiet blender just to keep the neighbors below from slamming on the ceiling with a broom.

"Jake, I made you a green drink. It's got spinach, kale--" she listed off a bunch more ingredients which sounded like the next superhero in the Marvel line. Then again, Amy was always expanding his life. Before her, he never would've known what quinoa was, let alone that you're supposed to soak it first, or it tasted bad.

Now, Jake still didn't know what it was, except that it looked like bird feed. Amy claimed it was food, and he believed in her. She always had the best intentions for him, even if they involved smoothies that totally didn't deserve the name, because they didn't taste anything like a McFlurry.

She kissed his cheek. "Think of it like the radioactivity which turns you into a superhero--even though that's completely outdated and has been disproven many, many times," she said.

"Superheroes? They call you, _The Stone Cold Kaler_ ," Jake said in his best gravelly Batman voice.

"Okay, _Aquaboy._ Don't forget your thermos of water. I stocked some bottled water at the precinct. Remember, 8 a day keeps the body well hydrated. And don't let Hitchcock and Scully get ahold of them."

"I wouldn't worry about that; I think they're allergic to water."

"Unless it has sugar in it," Amy said. 

Jake took a sip, as she did a last purse check. Amy was never late if she could help it, and she never, ever, ever, forgot her keys. She got more done in a few hours before work than many people did in their entire lives. And that was something Jake just had to marvel at. She looked so good and professional all set for work. Like the epitome of the term _power suit_. Just beneath her shirt, her light blue shirt peeked out, like a hidden wink, a sly smile between them.

It'd only been a few months with Amy before his spectrum of colors expanded. Now he knew that _periwinkle_ and _mauve_ weren't in fact, indie bands but shades of purple.

He considered his Thermos for a moment. It was coppery in color, like some kind of super cop artifact. 

Cons: he was peeing _so much._

Pros: He had an incredible fiancee who even laminated binders for him. Sometimes, she even made him lunch. Not because of outdated and stupid gender roles, but because she was afraid of the kinds of things he'd eat if he went out to lunch with Hitchcock and Scully and worried about him.

Jake figured he could deal with the downsides of being well hydrated for Amy's sake. 

*

Lunch was fruit yogurt, (her contribution) greasy pizza with some kind of mysterious vegetables on it, (his contribution) and a few minutes of videos on their phones. The break room couches were broken down, worn in with Hitchcock and Scully sized dips, but the last attempt at decorating had been a disaster. 

It used to be that he'd spend these few minutes forwarding important videos about cats being scared of their own farts, but now he's more likely to be a TED talk. Amy Cuddy's famous TED, the second most shared on in all of history was his pick for the day.

"Oh, I've already seen it. I do the exercises every morning," Amy said.

"I know; they're great to watch. I get to imagine you as Wonder Woman. But it's my first time, and I wanted it to be be with you," Jake said.

Amy smiled. "I promise I'll be gentle."

"Title of your sex tape," he said. 

She smiled, in that tender way. Not only did she not roll her eyes at the millionth iteration of this joke, she still managed to find it funny.

They settled down to his first time at seeing this TED; her hundredth. Who'd have thought that posing like a superhero could actually turn you into one? 

He saved the best for last, and always polished off the lunch break with some classic cats in boxes. Maru was a classic, like a fine wine which had to be savored as the rolly-polly cat hopped into increasingly smaller boxes.

 

*

Amy used to have this really complicated nightly routine. But since Jake had moved in--to her apartment, her life--it had grown a lot simpler. Jake had never known a bed which didn't feel like a constant car crash wreckage of lumps and mysterious smells--it came with the apartment, just like the towel. He hadn't even had to charge extra.

She no longer managed to read 100 pages a night, with Jake keeping her busy in _other ways_ , but now Jake had picked up the reading habit. He had Harry Potter by his bedside. It'd taken him months when she'd finish books in weeks, or even days, but Jake never minded when she sprinted ahead of him in paperwork or binder-related activities, or anything. Nothing was as satisfying as sitting back and watching her succeed. Even better if he got to cheer her on along the way.

Now, there was Netflix and chill. And not just the euphemism for sex--though there was plenty of that.

Amy had long ago worked her way through all of Netflix's documentary section--even the ones she wanted to throw popcorn at for being so full of shoddy research. But she happily tuned in to each one. She looked at documentaries like he looked at Die Hard. She squirmed with excitement, and pointed out each 'exciting' part.

_And see, this is the part where he discovers..._

And even if the documentary was obscure and a little bland (could've used a few more car crashes and terrorists storming in, beaten back by iconic heroes) but it was all worth it just to see her face light up. 

The best part of these routines, these days, was how he got to wake up and fall asleep next to his best friend in the world. And it'd keep on and on, day after day, with new green drinks and new smiles and kisses. He'd get to see her walk down that aisle, wrapped in white lace, and watch her get every damn medal and accolade there was.

Goodnight was always just _see you in a few_. To drift off to another routine, another day of catching criminals, another day with her.


End file.
